


Of Blood Magic and Grief

by ambientwhispers



Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Cutting, Depression, Dragon Age Kink Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-05
Updated: 2011-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-23 11:16:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambientwhispers/pseuds/ambientwhispers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cade Hawke has lost everything. He tries to find a way to cope, and Fenris misunderstands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Blood Magic and Grief

“No, really, Fenris, I’m _fine_.” Cade Hawke prodded the elf in the ribs in an attempt to herd him out of the Hawke estate. “I’m a big boy, this isn’t my first ‘lost a parent’ go-round, I’ll be as okay as a mage in Kirkwall can be.”

Fenris scowled, pushing Cade’s hand away. “I doubt you’re as ‘fine’ as you insist you are. You just lost your mother, Hawke. After losing both your siblings a year apart, and your father not long before that, I highly doubt you’re... coping well.”

Cade snorted. “Oh, bugger off. Besides, don’t you have rotting bodies and cobwebs to worry about? You should go home and take care of those.” Cade prodded again. “Don’t want to attract any mice now, do we?”

“Hawke, I --” Fenris turned to find the door to the mansion slammed in his face with great force

Fenris sighed. He’d tried.

\----

“And then -- and _then_ she says, ‘that’s not your coin purse!’” Cade choked out, doubled over with laughter.

Isabela joined in his raucous laughter, while Aveline and Fenris looked uncomfortably confused.

“Get it...? She thought it was his coin purse pressing against her--.” Cade sputtered, only to be interrupted by Isabela.

“IT WAS HIS COCK!”

They both burst into howling peals of laughter again.

Fenris frowned. Hawke hid his grief well, though Fenris believed a person did not simply lose their mother then go on as if nothing happened. He sped up his pace a bit to catch up with Aveline, the wind from the Wounded Coast’s waters blowing his hair about his face. “I am concerned about Hawke.”

“You’re telling me,” Aveline frowned, her freckled nose wrinkling.

 _Ah,_ Fenris recalled, _Aveline is a widow, and both of her parents have passed away. If anyone should know about grief…_

“I don’t like how he’s carrying on like nothing has happened. This will end with him drunk, face-down in Lowtown.”

Fenris mentally added what he knew Aveline thought. _At best._

“ _Hey_!” Cade shouted. “Why are you guys being so serious? Honestly, the Wounded Coast is bad enough as it is without you two moping around!”

\----

Cade continued to be his normal raunchy, snarky self in public, but he spent his nights alone in his nearly-empty mansion sitting at his desk in his bedroom, hunched over his diary. A new bottle of rum was his nightly companion, more reliable than his most recent lover had been; that was still a hard blow, if he thought about it too much. Fenris walking out of the bedroom, leaving him alone on the bed... His mother must have heard his broken sobs, because she tried to comfort him the next morning. She always did care about her children’s broken hearts.

A sad smile barely touched the edges of Cade’s bleary eyes as moonlight glinted off the blade of the dagger laying next to the leather-bound book.

Rum was the only reliable constant - as reliable as Bethany. Bethany was such a beautiful young woman, so much magic potential - and she couldn’t even see that about herself! - with such a wonderfully giving heart.

So giving, that she gave her own life to save them. She sacrificed herself, let herself be crushed in that ogre’s fist against the hard ground, so that they could escape Lothering and the Blight.

Cade picked up the dagger, turning it over in his hands, feeling the perfect balance in the weight that pressed against his palm. He felt so numb, so dead inside. Every time he lost someone close to him, another part of him died. All that remained of him was an empty shell.

And Carver! Carver may have barely disguised his hatred for Cade, but Carver was always there when it counted. _He_ died because of the darkspawn, too. While Bethany never made it out of Ferelden, Carver fell in the Deep Roads, even after Mother had begged Cade not to take him. Cade had failed his brother, like he failed his sister before him. The worst part was that Carver died by Cade’s hands. He had killed his own brother.

Cade ran his fingertip over the edge of the blade, then hissed when he felt it bite into his flesh. He could feel the power pulsing through the cut, but he pushed it aside - he would rather be torn limb from limb (perhaps by Fenris and Anders themselves) than turn to that accursed magic. He put his finger into his mouth, licking the wound, relishing the sting each time his tongue brushed the wo

“... Mother...” he whispered. “Mama, what have I become?” He didn’t even have tears left to shed for her. When he had held that... that _thing_ with his mother’s face as it died, what was left of him died as well. Nothing was left of Cade Hawke. Cade Hawke died the day he closed the dead eyelids on his mother’s face, sewn onto another woman’s neck, with _not her_ hands folded across yet another woman’s torso.

What did he have to lose? _Nothing,_ he thought with a bitter note. _There is nothing left inside me. I’m an empty shell that the whole Maker-damned city relies on._

Cade thought back to the sting of his sliced finger, and how wonderful it had been to _feel something_ , if only for a moment. He turned the dagger over in his hands again. The blade was sharp, he made sure of it - sometimes a quick stab to the kidneys was all he could manage in close quarters, and a dull knife was no good for that.

What it _was_ good for, however, was quick, clean cuts in flesh. _Just the weight of the dagger alone should be enough for a shallow cut, right? That’s all, just one..._ Cade rested the blade of the dagger across his inner forearm near his elbow and took a deep breath before dragging it across the _pure, whole_ unmarked flesh.

The skin blossomed open just a fraction of an inch as miniature droplets of blood coalesced into a single red rivulet. The stinging caught up with him a second later, and Cade gasped, dropping the dagger to the floor. His heart pounded in his ears, and he stared at the blood dripping down his arm. He could feel the magic, the power behind it, and understood - for the first time - why blood magic tempted the weak.

No. That was not his purpose behind this. Once again, he pushed aside the _want_ he could feel. He wanted the pain. Pain meant he was alive. Pain meant he still felt something inside, that he _wasn't_ just going through the motions. Pain was the goal here, not some demon’s power. He refused to channel any healing magic into the cut - he wanted to remember why he did this, how it made him feel.

Cade stared at the shallow slice on his arm until the blood finally clotted, then he sighed and stood up from his chair. He pulled the sleeve of his housecoat down enough to hide the cut, but knew the sleeve wasn’t long enough to hide the rivulet of blood. Cade slipped into the washroom while hoping he wouldn’t awaken his entirely too small household.

\----

Cade repeated this ritual nightly in secret. Sometimes the cuts overlapped. Sometimes he kept them in precise parallel lines. It looked almost beautiful, what he did to himself. It felt like the only thing he had control over anymore, between his entire family being dead and the Qunari situation growing more tense by the hour.

He was careful to only select tunics and robes that had long sleeves. Nobody needed to know this. This was his, and his alone. He had to share too much of himself every blasted day, and by Andraste, couldn’t he just have _this one thing_ that he could keep to himself?

Cade kept the jokes rolling to keep up his outward appearance. He kept firing off his sarcastic quips whenever conversation turned too serious. He kept political discussions toeing the line of _inappropriate_ while somehow still managing to accomplish things.

Fenris still worried. He knew this was not how normal people dealt with grief. He remembered Cade being sad after Carver died, but…

“Slavers!” Aveline pulled her sword and shield from her back as she appraised the situation under her breath.

Cade sneered and shifted his weight to balance the staff better. “Let me guess? You want to keep the pretty ones alive!” He shouted at the man who he presumed was their leader.

In response, the man spat upon the ground, then charged full-speed at the group.

\----

Cade coughed deep from within his chest, spitting out a mouthful of blood. _Slavers in Lowtown are always such a joy._

A quick inspection consisting of tongue over teeth revealed that he still had all of them, _thank the Maker_ , but he’d bit his tongue hard. He’d also broken a few ribs, he decided. He summoned the spirit healing his father had taught him and knitted bones and flesh together _except those perfect, beautiful scars, leave those alone_ and winced with the sensations.

Cade patted himself down to make sure he had no other injuries, and --

“Oh, Andraste’s flaming tits,” Cade's words came out in a rush of breath. His left arm was completely exposed - his robe was nearly completely shredded. The network of thin scars and slender scabs that had started just below his elbow on his forearm, now stretched from mid-bicep to wrist, wrapping around his arm. Cade felt much more naked than even just his tattered robe could have caused. His secret, his last treasured bit of himself, showing for the world to see.

Aveline looked disappointed, Merrill did her best to look anywhere _but_ at Cade, and Fenris looked like he was fit to kill.

“How _could_ you, Hawke?!” Fenris growled. He paced back and forth about ten steps in front of Cade in a way that was too reminiscent of the animal his name represented.

“Wh... what are you talking about?” Cade sputtered, trying to joke his way out of the situation again. “How could I... eat the last slice of cake at Aveline’s name day party? Wear the same set of smallclothes two days in a row? Pass out during a fight when we all know Merrill can’t heal worth a damn?”

Before Cade could even breathe again, Fenris had darted forward, his face mere inches from Cade’s. Fenris grasped a handful of Cade’s robe at the collar, shaking the man.

“ _Blood magic_!” Fenris hissed, the fury evident in his voice as a gauntleted finger pointed at his scars accusingly.

“Fenris, it’s not--”

“Do not speak to me, _malefic._ ” Fenris growled again, releasing Cade’s robe with a shove that knocked the mage flat before stomping off toward Hightown again.

Cade looked to Aveline, pleading. “Please, Aveline, you know I’d never do that, you know I would never resort to the magic that ki--” A sudden and inexplicable sob caught in his throat, and he swallowed it. “... killed Mother.”

“No, I know _exactly_ what you’ve been doing, Hawke, and I am not happy with you, either.” Aveline frowned, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “You should have come to one of us.”

Cade snorted. “Right. Oh, hello, Donnic. Do you mind if I go sob on your love’s shoulder for a bit? _Thanks._ ”

Aveline’s frown morphed into a full-blown scowl. “You’re a bloody idiot, Hawke. By the Maker, drop the act already. The proof that it _isn’t working_ is carved into your blighted arm.”

Cade’s gaze dropped. Aveline was right. “Not like I can go apologize to him anyway. He tried to come talk to me after Mother...” Cade trailed off, then took a deep breath and continued, “and I threw him out.”

He sighed, then met Aveline’s glare. “Do you think you could go explain this to him? Maybe straighten this-” Cade held out his maimed left forearm. “- out with him, and then I’ll come by and apologize properly later.”

“I think you’ll come with me for me to do it, Hawke, and you’ll apologize right then.” Aveline sighed, dropping her distant pose, and offered a hand to Cade to help him to stand.

\----

“How _dare_ you bring that maleficar here!” Fenris spat at Aveline before glaring at Cade. Fenris went to slam the mansion’s front door, but Aveline stepped forward, blocking his attempt.

It’s not what you think, Fenris. Can we come in and explain it?”

Fenris scoffed, but stepped back to begrudge them entrance.

Aveline stopped short in the foyer, causing Cade to have to shuffle around her to keep from bumping into her. “Look, Fenris. Hawke isn’t doing blood magic. I trust that even he’s not _that_ stupid. I saw this sometimes back in the military in Ferelden. Someone decides that they can’t cope with whatever’s troubling them - family shipped them off to serve the King, they caught the girl they loved with another man in the barn, whatever. So they cope with the pain using more pain.”

Fenris’ wide-eyed expression turned to Cade, who looked down at the ground in shame. Fenris’ eyes narrowed in disgust. “I _tried to help you_ , Cade.” He crossed the room without making a sound - Cade never got used to the silent way Fenris moved.

Cade winced at the usage of his first name, something he hadn’t heard come out of Fenris’ mouth since that one night they’d spent together.

“I tried to _help_ you, Cade, and you pushed me out of your house.” Fenris whispered. Cade looked up to feel Fenris’ green eyes boring into his own moss-colored ones. That seemed to make this hurt all the more. “And what do you do? You hurt yourself. Why couldn’t you have trusted me?”

Aveline shifted her weight uncomfortably. “I think this is a private discussion between you two. Hawke, I will be by your estate later.” She slipped out the front door, leaving Cade to Fenris’ mercy.

After a long awkward moment, Cade sighed. “You _left_ , Fenris. You left before. I had already lost the twins, then I lost you... then I lost Mama... Mother.”

Fenris arched a jet eyebrow at the more childish name Cade used, but stayed silent.

“I had nothing left, Fenris. I _have_ nothing left. I am dead inside. On top of that, I have the stress of keeping this entire accursed city from going straight to the Void in a handbasket! The Viscount has an issue? Fetch Cade Hawke! Templars need help? Oh, call that apostate, Cade Hawke! Aveline is sweet on one of her guardsmen, but is too scared to talk to him? Ask Hawke to talk to him for her!”

Cade glared at Fenris. “Danarius is _almost constantly_ trying to get you back. Who do you ask for help? _Me_. And I do it, because I like you and slavery is the most vile thing in this world, with the Circle second.

“To be honest, Fenris, just how much can one man take? How much is a person supposed to be able to handle before he cracks? It’s like the Maker wants to use me as some sick experiment. ‘Hey, how much can I lump on Cade Hawke before he goes on a rampage?’ Like He just waits for me to burn down half of Kirkwall.”

“I had no idea, Cade.” Fenris’ face reflected the torment that Cade spilled with his words. “I really had no idea you felt this way. Why didn’t you tell me this? Even before our...”

A hard, barking laugh, then Cade said, “Our what? Our _mistake_? Our night of regrets?

“Our assignation, Cade. And no, I do not regret it. You should talk to us more often. That is what.... what friends do. You’ve been there for all of us, without fail. You should allow us to return the favor.”

Cade sighed, running a finger along one of the pink, freshly-healed scars. “You’re probably right, Fenris. I do feel a little better after telling you this.” He awkwardly shrugged. “D’you think I could stay here a bit longer... and maybe talk some more?”

“I think I would like that, Cade.” Fenris swept his arm out, gesturing to the stairs. “After you.”


End file.
